


Offering an Olive Branch

by orphan_account



Series: The Olive Branch [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multi, Olive Branch AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption AU, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hazel Rainart takes the olive branch that is offered to him when he goes to Qrow for help with Emerald and Mercury, the three defecting from Salem and her faction after it became clear that neither of the pair were safe at Evernight. These are moments where the three make connections, heal together and find themselves outside of vengeance, anger and unrequited loyalties.
Series: The Olive Branch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662082
Comments: 24
Kudos: 35





	1. The Olive Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where all drabbles regarding this AU that I am dubbing the 'Olive Branch AU' will be going now, starting with rewritten versions of the first two I've already done. I hope you all enjoy, I appreciate and read every single comment and thank you for the kudos that this may receive.

_“I should_ **_kill you_ ** _right here.”_

Never had a threat held so much promise; if Hazel hadn’t stared down a woman who defied death, he may have been intimidated by the sheer weight of those words alone but alas, those words lost their intimidation when he met sunken red eyes with dark circles. Qrow knew better than to expect a reaction out of Hazel, the immovable force that he was and Hazel stood true to that, unflinching and unmoving to the threat posed to his wellbeing. 

The silence was interrupted by the grating noise of chair legs being pulled across the wooden floorboards of the tavern followed by the harsh, high-pitched sound when Hazel sat down in the comically small chair. He folded himself inwards, trying to make himself seem small and humble but even that was a laughable attempt for a behemoth that rivaled the size and sheer strength of an Ursa Major. 

Hazel kept his eyes low as he collected his thoughts; his old comrades would have laughed seeing how small and submissive he was trying to make himself when he knew how easy it would be to reach across the table, hands clasped around the bird’s neck until it _snapped_ but that wasn’t why he was here.

He came here with no other choice, having exhausted his possibilities of running away and hiding from the inevitable. Flexing his fingers against the rough of his palms, battle-worn and calloused ends, Hazel was weary from fighting someone else’s war and having his sister’s name twisted to control him and he could only hope that Qrow was tired too, that the grey-haired huntsman may be able to echo his sentiments despite their differences.

In the end, all he could say was “I know.”

If one was to attempt to slice through the tension that was building, Hazel was certain that Qrow himself would barely make a dent. It had taken time to track him down, even more time to get the man to agree to meet with him at all; it was only by sheer coincidence that stray thugs from the White Fang had come from one of the children in his care - the Belladonna girl - and those fanatics of Adam Taurus were insistent on avenging him. Hazel had managed to find where they were staying and intercept, enough that the ambush had been thrown off completely and the entire of Ozpin’s ensemble had seen their saviours. 

Even after saving the lives of a member of team RWBY, Qrow was slow to trust a man who had sworn allegiance to Salem once upon a time. Hazel couldn’t blame him for that though, he was weary of the scythe wielder too and so, he didn’t bring up how Qrow’s hand lingered over the back of his chair in a way that he could make a quick grab for his weapon if Hazel chose to lunge across the table in a fit of rage. 

In an attempt to fill the quiet and empathise, Hazel ran one of his hands over the other, “I heard of Atlas with the Ace Operatives and General Ironwood, I’m sorry.” It had been a horrific battle, one where Qrow had lost a friend in Clover Ebi and the potential for something more when Tyrian had driven his scythe through the operative’s chest with no mercy. The scorpion faunus delighted in such cruelty and unnecessary violence, only restrained by the leash Salem had him on and indulged to an extent by the disgraced doctor, Arthur Watts. He didn’t dare to dwell on the horrors and the blood that ran through the streets of Mantle, so many innocent lives lost because a man had thrown away his heart for the sake of avoiding battle altogether. Hazel couldn’t say that Ironwood was unreasonable in his paranoia and fear but his lack of trust in his comrades and their decisions cost many lives that could have been saved, now the general had no-one.

Hazel watched how Qrow’s grip tightened around his glass, the dark liquid rippling from how shakey the huntsman’s hold on the drink was. The heaving chest, the defensive position and the seething as he spoke through grinding teeth, “Yeah? What’s good is your apology? It doesn’t bring back Clover, it doesn’t stop your buddy from running him through with…” 

There was a pause as Qrow knocked back the last of his drink, slamming the glass back down on the table and looking away so Hazel couldn’t see his face clearly. Whatever had happened between him and Clover, it ran deep and it hurt in a way Hazel could only compare to the loss of his sister who meant the world to him. He hadn’t meant to antagonise or hurt Qrow further, watching the man reach up to clutch the pin badge on his lapel - a four-leaf clover and a horseshoe, symbols of good luck. It must have belonged to Clover. 

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive.” Hazel backed down, gingerly reaching for the glass that had been placed in front of him a while back. It wasn’t common for Hazel to drink, the only person that would do so back at Evernight was Arthur when he managed to procure a few bottles of Atlesian wine to indulge in and if Tyrian was in company with the doctor, he would find the scorpion faunus would join him for a glass. He was glad to be away from them both, “He was never my friend though, Branwen and I did not come here to pour salt in fresh wounds.”

“You’re doing a pretty shit job of not doing so.” Qrow snapped back, though it held more bark than bite with how tired he sounded. Calling over the barmaid, the huntsman managed to procure a bottle of ale that appeared to be popular here and Hazel had to watch as Qrow gulped down half the bottle with little to no effort as if it was the only water left in the whole of Vacuo. Once he’d set it down on the table, Qrow pointed out at Hazel with an accusatory tone to his voice, “Why did you come here then? If you wanted us dead, you had plenty of chances and you don’t seem to be the type of guy to play the long game.” 

“If I was here to kill you, I would have done so already.” If he wasn’t certain once before, Hazel was positive now that Qrow would welcome death if it wasn’t for the duty he had to protect his nieces and their friends. Qrow Branwen was a hollow shell of a broken man; a bird whose wings had been broken over and over again and it made Hazel feel sympathy in a way that he had long forgotten he could until recently. 

“I came here because I need your help, Qrow. I had nowhere else to go.”

The silence that settled between the two was understandable, Hazel wanted to give Qrow a few minutes to process what was happening. When the enemy comes crawling to you, begging and asking for help, how else would one react but with disbelief and caution?

“You have no reason to trust me or anything I say but please listen to me when I tell you, I’m pouring my soul out to you right now in hopes you’ll see I bear no ill will towards you. You have already lost a great deal at the hands of Salem, in the same way, I lost everything to Ozpin.” Old habits die hard, Hazel wasn’t ready to admit Gretchen’s death wasn’t Ozpin’s doing, even if he knew deep down it was a risk that Gretchen knew when she chose to become a huntress. “I do not trust Ozpin, I don’t believe I ever will but I don’t trust Salem either, I chose to leave and I took Cinder’s associates with me. I had to get them away before they got hurt--”

Qrow held up a hand, quick to interrupt him mid-sentence, “Wait, backtrack, who are you talking about? Who have you brought with you? What do you mean before they get hurt?”

Slowing down, Hazel let his eyes fall to the glass he was cradling in his hands; “Emerald and Mercury, they’re just _kids_ , Branwen. They couldn’t have known what they were getting into, they don’t deserve to be used as pawns in Cinder and Salem’s power plays.” He could hear his voice growing desperate, uncharacteristic of him but he had nowhere else to go. This was the only person he could count on and even that was a stretch. He had seen how Cinder had used the pair for their skills alone, how Tyrian taunted and cruelly toyed with them as if they were playthings, how Salem was waiting for Emerald or Mercury to slip up _once_.

He hadn’t wasted time getting them out of there, Hazel had watched how the pair as the three of them had journeyed to Vacuo together. The way Mercury would carry Emerald on his back when her feet tired or how Emerald would be there for Mercury during his night terrors without a word or taunt. Hazel wouldn’t let another child suffer as Gretchen had done, no child deserves to be part of Salem and Ozpin’s game and yet, it was almost unavoidable. 

Clenching his grip tighter, the glass fracturing under the pressure, “They were poorly treated from a young age and Cinder only twisted and used them; she won’t take responsibility for how their lives have turned out but _I will_ so I defected, gathered everything we could and made the journey here where I knew you would be.” 

Jaw slack and the lip of the bottle resting against his lip, Qrow looked stunned at the monologue Hazel had relayed to him. Slow and steady, the huntsman set down the bottle and stared him down with eyes searching for any lies or trickery; “Why did you come here?”

“I just told you--”

Quick to interrupt again, waving his hand in a gesture that was most likely ‘ _stop talking_ ’ as Qrow leaned back in his chair after studying Hazel’s face; “Let me rephrase that, why did you come to me of all people? I don’t exactly have a good track record for babysitting if anything the kids look after me more than I look after them.”

It was a reasonable question, it wasn’t as if Hazel and Qrow were trusty friends. They didn’t even have a history together, only connected by their ties with Ozpin - one full of unquestionable loyalty fractured by years of lies and the other filled with unbridled hatred and killing intent. Hazel had no other choices though, he was limited in his options and no doubt Salem would send Tyrian or her Grimm after them and so, he hoped Qrow would see Emerald and Mercury were nothing but mere victims of circumstances. That they could be taken from this dark path that they’d had thrust upon them with the right people to help them grow. 

Quiet and humble, “I had nowhere else to turn, Branwen.”

The steady silence that filled the bar was drowned out by the heartbeat thumping heavy in his chest as each passing second filled him with the dread of failure. He couldn’t fail here, Hazel had often criticised failure and had always figured there was more than one path to victory but this was no battle and this was no act of vengeance; this was securing allies and protection for those in his care. 

Only when Qrow had drunk another three bottles and Hazel had only managed a single glass, the huntsman got to his feet and held out his hand to him. With slurred words and a sway in his step, “I’ll help you, just don’t expect a warm welcome, alright?”

It was more than what Hazel could have ever asked of him so he took Qrow’s hand, resting his other higher up on the man’s shoulder to steady him in his drunken stupor and sealed the deal that was being made between them - an olive branch had been extended and Hazel would not be foolish enough to dismiss it, he wouldn’t have been shown kindness anywhere else. 

“Thank you, Branwen. I owe you more than words can say.”

There was a beat before Qrow stumbled against Hazel, forcing the other to hold him upright lest he falls right beside him and crashes onto the floor.

“You can start by getting me back to where I’m staying, big guy.”


	2. First Steps

The sandstorms and the dry, prickling heat of Vacuo were stifling. The only thing Hazel appreciated about being here was staying in the shelter of Shade Academy, which was befitting of the name with the cooling grid installed to keep the entire building at a bearable temperature, akin to how the heating grid worked in Mantle and Atlas to fight off the bitter wisps of winter winds. 

However, the cooling grid only did so much when Hazel had spent far too long outside in the heat of the Vacuo sun engaged in battle with the likes of Tyrian Callows, entering the scene with his usual theatrics and bloodlust when he’d cornered Hazel and Qrow on their lonesome in search of answers about the location of the Summer Maiden on the outskirts of the city. One could only imagine how elated Hazel was to see the faunus, which was that he was less than happy about the situation. Tyrian’s taunts and clever quips at the expense of Hazel working _for_ Ozpin, even though he wasn’t and how Qrow was so desperate to keep someone around that he’d taken Hazel under his wing, a pitiful act that would lead to the inevitable outcome of Hazel’s death.

It had taken everything in Hazel to restrain himself and he could see Qrow was teetering on the edge of a path that Hazel once walked himself, one he struggled with every day at seeing Oscar among the group, knowing that boy was Ozpin. Hazel had been certain Qrow would be the one to snap first, though Tyrian stepped the line when he mentioned Gretchen and if it wasn’t for Qrow, no doubt Tyrian wouldn’t have gotten away but Hazel wouldn’t have made it after the first hour since the poison had seeped into his bloodstream. 

From what he had been told, Hazel had only managed to stay awake for as long as he had thanks to his semblance but even that had taken a toll on his aura alongside the injuries he had sustained, so he was now sporting a large gash on his right side where Tyrian’s tail had dug in to administer the venom and dragged back to create a deep wound. 

With caution, Hazel sat himself up and brought his legs to the side of the bed so he could sit on the edge. The bed whined and creaked under his shifting weight, the noise of the bed only drowned out by the groan Hazel made as he reached to grab his side. 

“You should get back to bed.” Qrow’s voice seemed to appear out of nowhere, startling Hazel into standing up despite his injury. The huntsman shook his head, watching as Hazel retreated back to the bed, hissing in pain as he’d stood up far too fast. 

“I’ve been in bed long enough,” Hazel mumbled but made no effort to move again, the pain searing through his side was enough of a deterrent to stop him from trying again so soon. Instead, he chose to watch as Qrow came through the door with a tray in hand, a glass of water and fresh bandages resting on top. The two often spent their time together with long silences and few words exchanged between them, it often felt like hours that the quiet stretched when it may just be minutes but their dynamic had shifted in the last few days, Qrow acting as Hazel’s caretaker. 

“Y’know, this would be easier if you just let Jaune just amplify your aura.” The huntsman handed Hazel the glass of water to drink down, knowing it may have been an hour or so since he last had a drink if he’d been asleep this entire time. “I can get him if you changed your mind.” 

Hazel finished the glass of water, setting the cup on the bedside table and letting his eyes drift to where his wound was. Running a hand over his shirt, feeling the tender skin wrapped up in bandages underneath, Hazel couldn’t bring himself to have Jaune help his healing process with his semblance. When Hazel had brought Emerald and Mercury with him, Qrow explaining to both teams why they were here, they hadn’t forgotten what he’d done back at Mistral and Jaune and Ren had definitely not forgiven the treatment of their teammate, Nora, at Hazel’s hands. He couldn’t blame them, his rage had blinded him to his own morals and he’d thought very little about running high voltage through the head of that young girl who was saved by her semblance in a lucky case of irony. 

No, he wouldn’t force Jaune or any one of those two teams to help him. He had survived worse, gone through self-inflicted injuries that always healed over in time and so, Hazel had continued to refuse the aura amplification and assured Qrow that he would heal fine without help. The huntsman often bit back with insults and quips on how stubborn Hazel was and it often led Hazel to thoughts, ones where he wondered if Qrow felt he was responsible for Hazel now, that he had to save him after losing Clover in Atlas and that’s why he’d been rattled by Tyrian’s taunts.

Even now, Hazel’s aura hadn’t fully recovered to the point where he could numb the pain in his side; the impressive work of Arthur Watts shone through in how well-made Tyrian’s prosthetic was, even if the faunus claimed it could never replace the original. It had caught him off guard, the way it reflected the sun at the right time to blind Hazel and leave an opening for the murderer to strike, the deep ravine of flesh dug out by the stinger ripped a scream out of Hazel that startled even himself; he hadn’t felt pain in so long, it was unbearable to do so now.

The way Hazel hunched over in agony, eyes trying to focus on the patterns decorating the room’s carpet, caught Qrow’s attention as the huntsman reached out to grab Hazel’s wrist in an effort to pull it from the wound. The mere touch between the pair was unfamiliar, Qrow pulling back as if he’d been burned by the contact while Hazel flinched, eyes flickering up to meet Qrow’s own. The two were used to insults and talks of strategy, words spoken out of necessity on Hazel’s side and venting frustration in a humorous way on Qrow’s end so this was new for the both of them; Qrow wasn’t one for bedside manners and playing caretaker and Hazel preferred to be left to his own devices, often criticising his own failures. 

Hesitant, Hazel watched as Qrow reached out once more to loosen Hazel’s grip on the found, scrunching up his wound where the blood-soaked bandages had gone through the shirt and stained the fabric with dark splotches. The bandages would have to be changed, the wound cleaned to prevent infection and so, Qrow coughed into the tense silence as he ran a hand over the hair standing at the base of his neck.

Mumbling just loud enough for Hazel to catch, the air shifting from comfortable to tense in a matter of seconds, “This isn’t the usual circumstances I’d be saying this but the shirt, it’s going to have to come off.”

A beat or two before Hazel caught on, he reached down to tug the shirt over his head. The strain he was putting himself through just getting it to his shoulder was obvious, the white-hot heat of the wound spread from his side round to his back and down his right arm. Qrow had to step in to help lift it upwards and off, bundling it up into a ball and tossing it on the floor where he could collect it to try and scrub clean later. 

Watching with curious eyes, Hazel found himself staring down as Qrow got to work at cutting through the old bandages and throwing them in the nearest bin. For someone who claimed to be nothing but bad luck, Hazel was lucky that Qrow was willing to care for his wounds - he wouldn’t want Mercury or Emerald to see him like this when he swore he’d protect them.

The way Qrow was careful with cleaning the wound and dabbing it down with a hand towel, making sure Hazel had time in between the cleaning process and being bandaged up to deal with the pain and the soft apologies that he was certain Qrow didn’t want him to hear; the last person who had been this careful with him was Gretchen, the memories coming back to him and creating a fracture in Hazel’s walls, allowing him to faintly smile. Qrow had noticed in his peripheral vision surely, considering how he mentioned it while working away at the bandages. 

“Are you smiling? I didn’t even know you could, what are you smiling for? I swear, if you make jokes now, I’m calling you a lost cause and leaving you for dead.” 

With a shake of his head, Hazel tore his eyes away from Qrow’s gaze to stare at the floor instead. Debating on whether to share such an intimate memory, Hazel allowed himself this indulgence just _once_ ; “Before she went off to become a Huntress, my sister would patch me up this way. When I was younger, I’d fallen down a ditch and it was a bunch of dead trees and rocks at the bottom. I’d broken my leg and tore up my arm, which luckily activated my semblance, so I crawled out and walked the rest of the way home.”

It was a fond memory, even if it wasn’t one of his prouder moments when he was young, “Gretchen was worried, she scolded and yelled at me for what felt like forever and every time I got injured after that, she would always tell me how I had grown reckless with my semblance. Gretchen only ever had my health and safety at heart.” 

He didn’t expect Qrow to listen to an old man’s ramblings or to indulge his sentimental side so the abrupt scoff coming from Qrow caught him off guard, the man nudging Hazel to move so he could wrap the bandages around with better access to do so with ease.

“She wasn’t wrong, big guy.” Qrow spoke up, not once looking up at Hazel, “I’d normally blame myself when something goes wrong or someone gets hurt but you purposefully sacrificing your aura to go berserk with dust, that’s a whole different level of fucked up I’m not sure even I can create.”

Misfortune, the semblance Qrow Branwen had brought up more than once whenever anything went wrong; Qrow was often found drowning his sorrows in alcohol if something went horrifically bad, going on drunken tangents that put himself down and pinpointed every bad thing happening on account of his existence. It wasn’t a strange sight to see Ruby supporting her uncle, an arm wrapping around his back in an effort to get him into bed, whispering words of reassurance to her distraught and broken shell of an uncle. The events of Atlas had truly pushed the man over the edge, even his own nieces didn’t know how to help him. 

Hazel could not stand failure and to wallow in them was even worse, he’d criticised Cinder for her own and he often did the same for his own failures. It had slipped out, the words that had been on the end of his tongue each time Qrow blamed his semblance or put down his own self-worth; “You shouldn’t do that.”

Qrow’s eyes were on him within a split second, the moment those words had left his mouth with his eyes narrowed in confusion and frustration because out of all the people in this academy right now, Hazel was the last person who should be telling Qrow what he can and cannot do. 

Yet, Hazel found that the dam had broken because he couldn’t prevent himself from continuing even when he wanted to stop talking altogether, “You talk as if you’re the sole reason for the bad that surrounds you, Branwen. As if you are the reason for all that is cruel and unfair in the world but I have seen you; I see you more so now.”

He had found himself defying his logical reasoning to stay quiet and let Qrow finish the bandaging so he could leave and they could pretend this had never happened. Words spewed out of his mouth like rushing water, years worth of repressed emotions that had been smothered by rage and crushed by malice. If Hazel could make Qrow see the good he put out into the world, maybe Hazel could be worthy of this man’s companionship and be worthy of redemption himself. If Hazel could do one kind thing for someone without expecting anything in return, he would be doing Gretchen’s memory justice.

“We have both lost those who were dear to us, you have lost _so many_ _people_ and I lost my entire world. We have both been broken by grief, rage, responsibility and weighed down by lies fed to us by those we put our trust in but what makes you different to me is the way you soar despite the way life tries to clip your wings, Branwen.”

Resting a hand over Qrow’s own, hesitant but gentle, he could feel how the huntsman’s own hands trembled against his side as they tried to tie the bandages together; “I have never met someone who perseveres in the face of such hardships without sacrificing their morals - that makes you a better man than myself, Qrow Branwen. You must see that, surely, you’re a man burdened by misfortune because the world is cruel but it is not because of you.”

Hazel’s eyes followed Qrow’s movements, the grey-haired man straightening up and stumbling backward. The huntsman hadn’t been paying attention to his footing, stumbling and slipping only for Hazel to react fast enough to reach out and steady Qrow onto his feet. Wincing at how the gash had strained, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d pulled it open again but the bandages hadn’t soaked through with blood immediately so he returned his focus onto the huntsman he had a handle on. 

The pair stared at one another, neither certain what would happen next or who would move away first. This was the closest to trust the two had come to one another and it was easier to believe that one would kill the other than offer any true kindness but here they were, barely a foot away from one another and that is when Hazel decided he would be the first to offer his kindness, extend the olive branch Qrow had done for him the first time. 

So he pulled the man forward by his arm, wrapping his arms around Qrow in a gentle hug that felt out of sorts for two men who had been on opposing sides for a long time. The way Hazel held Qrow while the man’s body wracked with silent sobs, feeling thin and wiry fingers clasp at his arms in an effort to feel anchored and soft hair buried in his chest in an effort to hide one’s face, it felt intimate in a way that these two had not allowed themselves to be in a long time; both of them were vulnerable, stripped of expectations as time seemed to slow down just for this moment. 

Hazel wasn’t sure how long they had stayed this way, it felt like an eternity had passed and he off-handedly wondered if this was how time felt for Salem and Ozpin. Once he was sure that Qrow had calmed and his trembling body had stilled, he let the huntsman step away. 

“Branwen, I’m sorry if I stepped a line--”

Qrow reached down, tightening the bandages with a swift motion and tying it together in a way that silenced Hazel with a sharp inhale of air. Looking up at him, Qrow had the softest trace of a tired smile; “Just call me Qrow already, enough with formalities.”

It was gratitude in those simple words, there was no need for anything more. The two had crossed a threshold towards trust, one that Hazel would take with the utmost seriousness to uphold.

With a nod and a smile of his own, “Thank you Qrow for the bandages.”

“Don’t sweat it, Hazel.”


	3. Let Light In

_ 'Take a seat, boy.' _

Tensing his muscles, stiffening and tightening as fingers flex outwards only to curl back into the sweat-soaked sheets. Teeth grinding against teeth, jaw set in stone as he kept his eyes shut tight to push back the tears threatening to spill over. All he could feel was the whispers of what once was, searing heat pulsating through phantoms. 

_ 'It's your birthday, am I not allowed to toast a drink with my own son?' _

Mercury could feel the pain of his legs that he'd long lost, old flesh that he could remember vividly being melted away by hot coals. Even now, he couldn't tell the difference between the metal of his prosthetics and the phantom limbs aching to be remembered. 

_ 'Ah, seems ya' drank too much. Let's get you to bed.' _

He had grown so used to the nights where nobody would rush to him, even Emerald couldn't stay by his side each and every time the pains crept their way through his terrible brain and took possession of his body. Mercury was trying to keep control of the situation, harsh breathing through his nose with his mouth clamped shut so no sound could escape. 

_ 'You're awake? Shit.'  _

Even if he did scream, he knew nobody would come to his side. The only two people who cared enough about him were out of reach as Emerald often spent her nights upon the rooftops to watch the stars in the cool desert air, trying to forget Cinder and Hazel had taken to keeping a certain bird company during long nights. 

_ 'I told you to shut the fuck up and stop moving!' _

He could feel sweat and tears run down his face, Mercury was swimming in and out of his own thoughts enough to have completely been deaf to his own sobs. It had been enough to warrant alarm, though Mercury could barely hear the shuffling coming from the room across the hall. The only thing he could do was bring the cool metal against his chest and curl up in his bed, sobbing and screaming through the phantom pains. Too many nights in Evernight Castle were spent this way and though he’d never admit it to anyone else, the times Emerald would sit and hold him made the pain easier to get through. 

Shame she wasn’t here right now.

_ 'Oh, quit your screaming-- I've done you a favour, you useless brat!'  _

There was a knock, he had heard it that time and through blurry eyes, Mercury felt his chest grow heavier when Emerald wasn’t the one on the other side to comfort him. Instead, he was met with that ridiculously optimistic monkey faunus that always greeted him with a smile but kept his distance, an air of caution about him when it came to himself, Emerald and Hazel. If it had been any other time, he’d have told him to fuck off or come up with a slew of insults to get the leader riled up but all he could do was let his head fall limp against the pillow and let out another pathetic sob as another flare of pain enveloped his legs. 

_ ‘Maybe now you’ll stop kicking like a dying mule and relying on those sticks so much.’ _

He could already feel his throat growing hoarse, it was exhausting and draining. All he wanted to do was sleep, instead, Mercury had to deal with a night of severe pains and a flood of old memories that brought back feelings of hatred and bitterness. It had thrown him off when he felt a hand, cautious and wary, reach out to try and pull his legs away from his chest. Frantic, panicked and in mild shock, Mercury tried to move backwards because he didn’t see Sun at that moment, he saw white hair and a cold stare. Shielding himself with his arms, he felt like a young boy again where he would end up splayed out on the floor of his house with bruises blossoming and his dad’s voice booming above him like thunder.

_ ‘I might even give you that semblance of yours back if you put this gift to good use.’ _

Willing himself to stay quiet, Mercury bit down on his lip and waited for the inevitable. The only pain he could feel was the ebbing pulsations of heat tearing through non-existent limbs and the sting of biting through his lower lips and when he had registered that Marcus wasn’t here, that he was no a boy and there was no beating awaiting him; he peered between his arms at the monkey faunus who was stood rather awkwardly at his bed with a wet towel in his hands.

Holding up the towel and waving it in Mercury’s field of vision, Sun tried to put himself out there as the confident guy he usually was but even now, Mercury could sense the mistrust that came with having accepted the likes of a murderer like Mercury into their group but he was too exhausted to taunt the faunus about that now. 

“I thought this might help, cold towel.” Sun offered with a grin that matched his namesake before he tested the waters with Mercury, sitting on the bed slow and steady as if dealing with a spooked animal rather than an old enemy. When Mercury narrowed his eyes at the towel, Sun felt the need to further explain himself. 

“Uh, Blake sometimes helps Yang with her pains. The arm thing.” He gestured towards Mercury’s legs, “I thought it would help you?”

Mercury figured that much, though he wasn’t sure how the towel was supposed to help. Letting out a huff of air as his only response, slowly unfurling himself from the defensive ball he’d curled himself into. Sun took this as a sign to press the towel where the prosthetic met the flesh, the pressure and shockingly cold water that ran over the flesh and metal was surprisingly soothing. 

Still, he wasn’t going to just let this guy  _ help _ him so reaching outwards, Mercury shoved Sun’s hand away and held the towel in place himself for a short time until switching to the other leg. He didn’t look at the blond but he could feel his weight on the bed and his eyes on him, it was annoying but no amount of glaring at his prosthetics and being standoffish with Sun was enough to make the other leave him alone and go back to his room where his teammates would no doubt be asking questions when he returned to them.

“You’re staring.” Mercury managed, his throat hurt from all the yelling and sobbing. His head was pounding as well, he felt sick from how dizzying the whole ordeal had been but with the cold towel, the pain was manageable now. 

Sun chuckled, most people would have the decency to apologise yet this faunus was just embarrassed he’d been caught out. Instead of offering to give Mercury peace and quiet or anything that the grey-haired boy would have preferred, he just got questions instead; “You sleep with your prosthetics on, it’s a bit weird, man. I figured you’d take them off or something but maybe I’m just out of the loop there, what with having all my limbs.”

Cutting him off with a sigh, Mercury met Sun’s gaze, “You talk a lot, don’t you?”

“I guess so.” Sun gave a shrug, that chipper personality shining through. It was enough to make one sick, he was so nauseating and it was ruining Mercury’s brooding. “Figured it’d keep your mind busy. Besides, you’re the one who woke me up.”

Mercury wondered how anyone could stay so optimistic and relaxed around him, even at this time of the night and during the dark times ahead of them. The faunus just stared at him patiently awaiting an answer, having gotten comfortable enough in the past few minutes to have leaned back on his hands rather than stay perched cautiously on the edge of the bed. 

It was nice to have company, he supposed, even if Sun was pretty annoying; “I don’t want to be caught off guard so I don’t take them off. I don’t have a semblance to rely on like the rest of you if I’m caught in a bad situation.”

There was a humming sound as Sun thought on his answer, “No wonder you’re strong then, you’ve had to work hard. It’s a wonder we haven’t come to blows yet, maybe we should spar sometime.” He chuckled afterward, elbowing Mercury in the arm in a playful manner before looking back down at the bare legs, taking in how the gunmetal prosthetics reflected the light of the moon as it streamed through the blinds. Mercury subconsciously ran his fingers over where they were attached, nothing but cold Atlesian steel. It had been years and yet, he could feel the flesh searing and burning with the horrific reminder of what his father had done to him in an effort to make him stronger. 

“Why are you even here, Sun?” Tired of playing games and engaging in small talk, Mercury cut right to the chase. He didn’t understand why the likes of Sun were sitting here, talking with him as if they were  _ friends _ when he could have made sure Mercury wasn’t dead and just left him to it immediately after.

It hadn’t caught the monkey faunus by surprise, it seemed Sun was used to dealing with difficult people. He just stayed quiet, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder to loosen the muscles in his neck and leave Mercury to linger in the silence. It was a nice night when he didn't take in the pains and the intrusion of a certain faunus in his personal space. 

"For one, you were screaming so someone had to see if you were dead or not." Sun played it off as a joke, not even Mercury could pinpoint whether he meant it or not. "In all honesty though, you needed a hand and I'm not about to just leave you to suffer through it on your own. That'd just make me a shit friend."

"We aren't  _ friends _ ." Mercury was quick to retort back. There was no foundation for a friendship here, not when his own actions had caused trauma amongst the people he'd watched fight for their lives at Beacon, all the while he had filmed it going down on his scroll and laughed. "Did you forget who you're talking to?" 

Sun frowned, his tail flicking out in a way that was reminiscent of Blake when she was frustrated or upset. It seemed the two had been close enough to pick up mannerisms of one another, a common theme Mercury had noticed between the various teams of young huntsman and huntresses. 

"No, you're right. I have no reason to trust you." Mercury blinked, looking up at Sun when he heard that as he'd been expecting some false reasons and attempts to gain his friendship. Instead, he was being called out and for once, he made no attempt to stop the faunus from continuing. "You're the bad guy, one of the people responsible for the Fall of Beacon. People got hurt there, Yang lost an arm and it messed everyone up real bad. A team even died,  _ all of them. _ "

Sun kept his eyes on Mercury, keeping the grey-haired boy's attention as if Mercury orbited around his very existence and hung on Sun's every word. Despite what he’d seen and heard, Sun had the qualities of a leader that Cinder never had and he could say the same about Jaune and Ruby. 

"I don't know why you did any of that and I have every right to kick your ass right now for everything that has happened but I trust my friends. If they think you're ready to start making up for your crimes, I won't turn you away and I'll support you as I would anyone else."

Sun stared back at Mercury, shrouded in shadows while Sun bathed in the light of the fragmented moon. The light only seemed to grow brighter when Sun grinned, both hands coming to rest against the back of his head and his voice breaking the quiet with choruses of laughter. 

“Besides, you came here with the others to help keep Emerald safe, right?” That caught Mercury off guard, tensing at the very thought that someone had been observant enough to see a sensitive side to him when he was supposed to be as ruthless, strong and unforgiving as his prosthetics. “You can’t be as cruel as you think you are if you want to help protect people like you want to help Hazel and Emerald; I think if you didn’t want to be here, if you didn’t believe you wanted to change and be better, you would have been long gone. When you’re ready to let others in again, you’ll see the qualities that make you stronger than any semblance can.”

This  _ idiot _ who had left Vale and became a stowaway on a boat to Menagerie to follow a girl across the sea, this  _ fool _ who had helped create a militia to take down the White Fang at Haven, this  _ moron _ who had come to his aid without question in the middle of the night despite the tension and hesitation between them. The very idea that such a person as kind and patient existed, someone who acted so laid back in the face of a murderer and could wax philosophy as if it was an everyday conversation, was laughable because a man like Sun could not exist, not one so willingly wanting to support the likes of Mercury Black.

Yet, here Sun was with his stupid smile and his words of wisdom with eyes as deep as the ocean acting as if he was Mercury’s friend. It was a ridiculous situation to be in, one that Mercury feared more than coming face-to-face with the likes of Cinder. He’d prefer Sun try to kill him, try to fight him so he could fight back and win out against the faunus in a battle of brute strength rather than a war of emotions where Mercury would always lose, swimming in the tar pits of his own bitterness.

Mercury didn’t know what else to say, what could he possibly respond with?

Exhaling loudly through his nose and closing his eyes, Mercury could feel the warmth of the room even with the air conditioning. It was enough, paired with the events of the night and the comfortable mattress, to have the weariness creep up on Mercury but he knew if he fell asleep now, he’d only be plagued with the bitterness of old memories and night terrors that he could never quite run away from. Instead, Mercury threw the wet towel at Sun and smirked at the look of surprise on the monkey’s face. 

“If you’re not going to leave me alone, let’s go outside.” He reached over to grab the clothes he’d tossed over the side of the bed’s frame and pulled on his trousers and a tank top he wore under his jacket. It was likely to be cool outside, though he decided not to grab the jacket because there was little point in doing so with what he had in mind. 

“Outside? What about your legs?” Sun set the towel down on a set of drawers, his eyes following Mercury’s movements as the other boy was pulling his boots over his prosthetics. “What are we going outside for?”

Mercury looked up at Sun before returning his attention to his shoes, “The pain is manageable now. Your stupid towel trick helped, I guess.” He shrugged, playing the whole thing off as a nonchalant demand rather than a suggestion. “As for going outside, you’re the one who suggested we spar so let’s go spar.”

He didn’t need to wait for day to break for the sun to rise because the faunus followed him without question. It seemed wherever Mercury turned, Sun was there with his bright light and maybe one day, Mercury would be happy to let the light in. 


	4. Shared Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering doing a second series to this with pairings, if people are interested and I'm considering doing art as well. Either way, I appreciate everyone who reads, leaves kudos and comments!

Setting over the horizon, Mercury had learned to appreciate deep reds and pinks ever since he’d left Evernight with Hazel and Emerald. The darkness that stretched over the castle had always made the days long and the nights longer, the scenery had never changed and it was enough to drive him mad. Even now, complaining he was bored felt like a luxury compared to two months ago; Mercury would take giving a crash course of prosthetics maintenance over dealing with Salem’s wrath any day. 

From what Mercury could tell, the panels of Yang’s arms had been shifted and a few of the inner machinations had been bent out of place, making it impossible for Yang to control. It didn’t help that she keeps using the arm as a guard against every weapon she comes into contact with, making it really easy for the brute to use electricity dust to fry up the circuits. If it wasn’t for him, they’d be paying out of pocket to get it properly fixed and he didn’t even want to get involved originally; Yang just  _ sucked _ that much when it came to taking care of such high tech equipment, enough that Mercury could have screamed. 

That’s why Mercury was sat here making small talk about the weather and Yang’s motorbike, the Bumblebee 2.0, and whatever else the blonde could think of, trying to coax him into the conversation as he examined the arm’s circuitry. Her eyes would often drift to the arm before looking at Mercury with a niggling curiosity, it was a wonder Yang could keep anything to herself because she looked ready to explode. It must be a sisterly trait, both Ruby and Yang were ridiculously talkative. 

“You got something to say or just checking out the goods, Blondie?” Mercury teased, unable to suppress the smirk at his own taunt. He didn’t need to lift his eyes to know Yang’s response, one that earned him a swift kick to the leg followed by Yang reached down with her other arm with a whine.

“Robo-legs, Blondie, keep with the program.” He tapped his knuckles against the plating that met his thigh, the sound echoing through the room before returning to the arm in front of him. 

Letting out a snort and a chuckle, Yang rested her head on her only arm. It had taken time for the pair to get this comfortable when more often than not, Mercury and Yang had come to blows with one another rather than any enemy they faced. Even without all the bad blood between them, Yang had a bad temper and would often resolve everything with her fists rather than talk it out while Mercury continued to have issues regarding respect and teamwork. It had been a long, arduous process for everyone but the two had managed to find common ground; Mercury knew  _ why _ Yang would avoid sleeping some nights, the same reason he did. He hadn’t shared all the details, just bits here and there that felt relevant at the time. 

Now that they were working together though, Mercury wondered how strange it was to be sitting here. If it wasn’t for his part in Cinder’s plans, a lot of things wouldn’t have happened to the people he reluctantly called friends. If he had never been involved with Cinder, he wouldn’t be sat here fixing up a top of market Atlesian prosthetic arm that belongs to a girl who may have never needed them. 

“You know, you never told me  _ how _ you got your legs.” Yang broke Mercury from his thoughts, as much as Emerald often teased him about how his head is empty. The blonde’s stare was a million miles away, her fingers reaching out to press against the cold fingers of her prosthetic arm, making it clear where her mind was. It had been so long for her now but the memories probably felt like yesterday. “You already know my story.” 

Mercury had made his fair share of  _ friends _ but nobody pushed for his story, even those who could tell there was more to him than he let on. Often, Mercury would see Sun watching him when he had days where Qrow had drank too much and he couldn’t move, only watch or how Ruby with her big, silver eyes and kind soul wanting to ask how she could help him as if he was broken. It pissed him off, he wasn’t broken and nobody needed to look at him with pity - maybe that’s why he liked Yang, she understood that. 

“You really want to know?” Taking a screwdriver from the spread of tools on the table, focusing on the way the last of the sun’s rays hit the metal rather than the inevitable. It wasn’t an easy tale to share, there was no grandeur battle or being the heroic saviour of someone’s dreams; just a pathetic boy who hoped for more than he ever was given only to have more taken from him. 

Yang didn’t look certain, maybe she was worried she’d offended Mercury. It was laughable, that asking about his legs in such a way would have him running with his tail between his legs. “You don’t have to share, I just thought--”

“It’s fine, Blondie.” Mercury cut her off, returning his focus back to the arm as he recalled the days before he had Talaria or his legs. “It was my birthday, you could say they were a  _ gift _ .” 

Pushed to the brink of exhaustion, Mercury had limped back to his house where his father was already at the table, drink in hand and slur in his words. The way his father eyed his legs, the grumble of low words he couldn’t make out; Mercury should have seen it coming but he didn’t know, all he knew was his father was drunk and inviting his  _ son _ for a drink - not his worthless waste of a seed or the pathetic runt of a boy he had the misfortune of raising, his  _ son _ and part of Mercury so desperately wanted to be Marcus’ son, just for a day. 

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned how my father was a raging alcoholic; he made your uncle look tame in comparison.” Mercury let out a dry laugh, the comparison was enough to make Yang wince. “I had pretty bad legs as a kid, I’d been born with them real fucked up so I had to use crutches. Now, using my semblance was a crutch according to my old man so imagine what he must have thought about me needing crutches.” 

Gesturing for Yang to shuffle her chair closer, Mercury helped reattach the arm once he’d screwed the panels back into place. He didn’t respond to her quiet thanks, just shrugging as he leaned back to rock in the chair he was seated in while she rubbed where the arm joined to the flesh. It always ached, no matter how much one may be used to it. That was one of the reasons why Mercury didn’t take off his legs if he could help it, the phantom pains and vivid flashbacks were annoying enough without any other aches and pains.

“I can’t imagine he was ecstatic, you said he was an assassin once right?” Yang questioned, resting on the prosthetic once she was comfortable again. It was interesting to watch how Yang viewed her own prosthetic, the way she talked about her own story was a journey of self-hatred, betrayal, and pride. It had sobered her up, made her calm down considerably even if she was still easy to rile up and taught her a lot about where her loyalties lied. 

“Best in the business.” Mercury drawled out, it had been true  _ once _ but that was before Mercury had dragged his father’s corpse down the path of their burning home and met Cinder. “One night, he invited me for a drink and foolishly, pathetic me took him up on his offer. I think to myself how this is the moment I’ve earned his respect and that he’s going to give me my semblance back, this is the day.” 

Clenching his fist, the same smug face of a drunkard with a god complex over his own child echoed in the back of his mind. It haunted his dreams and controlled his life, the violence and hatred he had been shown taking over Mercury tenfold, claiming him as a final victory for Marcus. It was only when Hazel had reached out and became the father he never had, when Mercury had been given a  _ real _ choice that he had become his own person.

“I have one drink, then two or three, I blackout…” Grinding his teeth together as he continued to relay his story. “When I come round, he’s already cut through half of my leg.” He could feel the saw as it ripped through flesh and tore through broken bone. The agony he was writhing in as his father pinned him down, the way the metal was slick with blood and all Mercury could do was watch as his legs were taken from him. “It didn’t take long for me to pass out from the blood loss or the shock, I was in that much pain I couldn’t be sure.”

Frowning, Yang was studying him for similar signs to her own. He’d learned to try and control the tremors, grown insensitive to his own flashbacks which he met with bitterness and rage rather than horror and distress. 

“By the time I woke up, he’d installed the legs.” Reaching down, Mercury’s grip tightened on the metal plating around his knees. Dizzy with his own memories, he hadn’t noticed Yang rush round to his side in order to prevent him from falling out of his chair as his own voice got louder, distressed, strained; “Called me a runt, called me a dying mule and a useless brat. I hated him so much, he was a drunk and a bastard.”

This was why Mercury didn’t talk, he lost his cool when it came to Marcus in greater detail. In passing about his drinking or the training, it was easy to brush off as spite and disgust for the man who was supposed to be his father but even he couldn’t deny the years of abuse had an adverse effect on him; “He took  _ everything _ from me: my life, my control, my semblance and then my fucking  _ legs,  _ Yang!”

“Even now, he’s  _ dead _ and he lives in my  _ fucking _ head...” Mercury ran his hands through the thick locks of grey, tugging at his hair. He couldn’t help but snap and yell as if this was somehow her fault or even his own fault, not the fault of a dead man who couldn’t take responsibility for how he’d damaged his son. “He’s in my dreams, he’s in my fucking past because everything bad I ever did, I learned from him and I let him control me with my spite and bitterness!”

Reaching out, Yang pulled Mercury into a hug. It felt warm and comforting, a mother’s embrace or a protective sibling that Mercury had never known and he felt himself choke back on a sob. He wasn’t going to make it a habit to be crying in front of blondes, not today and not any other day. Instead, Mercury tried to pull away but Yang had a tough grip that he’d severely underestimated.

Pulling away when Mercury had given in, letting Yang settle into the mother hen role she took with everyone else, the blonde rested her hands on his shoulders with a wide grin and a heavy pat on his right shoulder that had him wincing at the weight of the prosthetic slamming against him, no matter how supportive it was meant to be. 

“Oops!” Yang chuckled, pulling back and standing upright to rock on the back of her feet with her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t meant to hurt you there but that’s beside the point, you do realise you’re not your dad, right?”

Mercury frowned, he got enough philosophical nonsense as far as he was concerned from the likes of Sun whenever he got self-deprecating or Ren whenever Hazel roped him into meditation with the dark-haired boy. 

“Are you going to get sentimental on me as well, Blondie? I didn’t realise you had the brain cells for it.” He murmured loud enough for Yang to catch, earning him a sucker punch to the arm that caused him to yelp in surprise. “What was that for?!”

“You didn’t want me to be sentimental so I figured you’d get me punching sense into you.” Yang stuck her tongue out in amusement at Mercury’s expression. “Dude, if I’m more than what  _ he _ did to me then you’re more than what your dad did to you. You got it?”

There was a moment of silence before Mercury found himself laughing because it was true; everything Yang had said, everything Sun had said was all true and it was taking him  _ this long _ to figure it all out. It was ridiculous, it was hilariously stupid that he could have been helping the right people this entire time except he wasn’t because he’d chosen to  _ let _ his father control him, even in death. If only he and Emerald had met the likes of the Xiao-Longs before they had run into Cinder, maybe he would have turned out for the better.

Even so, Mercury wouldn’t change his current situation for the world; “Right, got it.”


End file.
